Human beings don’t have to be told that we are living outside of paradise.  It’s not just the fact that the world is not perfect: it’s that deep inside many of us, we feel a longing for a place that might be.  Within each of us there is a longing for a home we have never fully found.Midrashically, this human experience of exile begins almost immediately, on the eighth day of creation, immediately after the first Shabbat.

We tend to think of Shemini Atzeret and Simhat Torah, which conclude the somber and at times terrifying High Holiday season, as a time of tremendous joy. This year, on the one-year anniversary of Hamas’ brutal attack and the terrible war that followed, the exultation we associate with these days will be impossibly incongruous with how many of us will feel.  How are we supposed to live with these complicated feelings on this holiday?  A closer look at the holiday’s practices offers some direction, suggesting a much more complicated emotional landscape than pure, unadulterated joy. In some ways, Shemini Atzeret/Simhat Torah is as much about existential fear as it is about celebration.

The first verse in the Torah I ever learned by heart comes from its final parashah.  When my brother and I would go visit our father in New York for the summer, he would try to figure out things for us to do during the day, and one year—I must have been about ten or eleven—he sent us to this Chabad day camp for a week.  We were not observant during the rest of the year at my mom’s house, so my father probably thought it would be good training for us, maybe fill in some gaps.  The thing I remember most vividly from that week is that every morning, all the campers would stand outside on the grass in a big formation and chant together: Torah!  Tzivah!  Lanu!  Moshe!  Morashah!  Kehilas!  Ya’akov!

It is one of the last acceptable prejudices in American culture: the God of the "Old Testament" is a God of vengeance, focused on strict justice rather than mercy, given to anger rather than love. This perception is as mistaken as it is widespread. In this lecture, we'll encounter a series of biblical texts that make the stunning claim that what makes God unique, what makes God God, is God's unfathomable capacity for love, mercy, and forgiveness. We'll explore the common complaint that a God of love is (too) anthropomorphic, and we'll ask whether belief in a God of love is still plausible in this day and age. Recorded at the July Learning Seminar 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/HeldGodofLove2024.pdf

In its time, the destruction of the Temple, habayit (the house), brought with it tremendous violence, loss and suffering. In this session, we'll turn to new midrashim written post-October 7th by Dr. Nurit Hirschfeld-Skupinsky, a professor of Midrash in Israel. In these midrashim she understands the destruction of one kind of bayit, the Temple, as a kind of a destruction of another kind of bayit, the house and families whose lives were shattered on and after October 7th. Based on traditional midrashim from Eichah Rabbah (lamentations) and the Talmud, Hirschfeld-Skupinsky's midrashim tell the stories of the devastation and loss wrought on Israeli families with a particular focus on the stories of women. Recorded on Tisha B'Av 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Strausberg9Av2024.pdf

Last week, we discussed the significance of the poem that God tells Moshe to write down in Parashat VaYelekh, "Now, write for yourselves this poem and teach it to the Children of Israel" (Deuteronomy 31:19). Most of the classic Medieval commentators (Rashi, Ramban, Rabbeinu Behaye, Abarbanel, and others) understand “this” to be a reference to the poem that makes up most of this week’s parashah, Ha’azinu. Yet the Talmud (in Nedarim 38a) considers another possible meaning of the phrase “this poem.” In search of proof that the Torah was given to all of Israel, the verse above is cited, indicating that “this poem” refers to the entire Torah. 

In Parashat Nitzavim Moshe’s grand oratory comes to a close, and in Parashat VaYelekh he turns to the process of writing the Torah down.  The parashah records two distinct acts of writing, in two very different styles: a book and a poem.

To prepare ourselves for the approaching Days of Awe, we'll engage in two sets of reflections. In this second part, we'll consider some of the very different ways that Rabbis Abraham Isaac Kook and Joseph Solveitchik conceptualize teshuvah and ask whether and how they can each challenge us to grow as Jews and as human beings. Recorded on Hadar's Virtual Beit Midrash, Elul 2024. Source sheet:https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/HeldTeshuvahPart22024.pdf

In Parashat Ki Tavo, Moshe and the elders of Israel command the people, on the day they arrive into Land, to set up twelve large stones, and “to write on them all the words of this Torah” (Deuteronomy 27:3).  Moshe then repeats this charge a few verses later, but this time adds extra emphasis with an unusual verb.

To prepare ourselves for the approaching Days of Awe, we'll engage in two sets of reflections. In this first part, we'll explore some key passages on teshuvah from Maimonides', paying special attention to how he creatively reads Talmudic sources to make the spiritual-ethical-educational points he thinks are important for us. Recorded on Hadar's Virtual Beit Midrash, Elul 2024. Source sheet:https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/HeldTeshuvahPart12024

The rules of inheritance are just another law in Deuteronomy’s massive catalog of laws, but something in the way it’s written sounds like a fragment from some lost legend. It somehow breaks the heart to hear them. A hated wife, in the shadow of a beloved one. A husband’s unfair disregard. And the poor child who was innocently born into disfavor. It reads like a story.

What does it mean to think of hesed as the bedrock of Jewish practice? Rav Aviva explores this question through an essay by Rav Yitzhak Hutner, the author of Pahad Yitzhak, in which he argues that the most foundational attribute of the world is Hesed. Recorded at the Manger Winter Learning Seminar 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/MWLS2024RichmanHesed.pdf

Back in Elul of 2023, when I began this year of writing Divrei Torah for the holidays, we didn’t know what devastation lay ahead.  In retrospect, each of the Divrei Torah I’ve written this year can be read in light of the events of October 7th.  Each holiday celebrated, every encounter with Torah is refracted through the lens of the last eleven months.  If there has been a theme that has tied all of this Torah together it is: How do we observe and mourn and celebrate our holy days in light of a continually unfolding tragedy that plagues our people and the people in Gaza?  Or, perhaps: Is Torah equipped to help us make sense of such devastation and what meaning can we glean from Torah in this period of violence and loss?

Belief is core to the religious experience yet many don't quite believe with conviction or don't know what it means to say that they do. In this session, we'll turn to the Torah of Rebbe Nachman as well as a modern midrash by Rivka Lubitch to unpack what's at the center of belief. What do we mean when we say that we believe, who gets to call themselves a believer, and can we find new definitions of faith that allow us to expand the circle of belief? Recorded at the Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive, March 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/RYI2024StrausbergBelievers.pdf

Of all the anthropomorphic images used to describe God in the Torah, one of the most richly developed is “the hand of God.” The image appears for the first time in the Book of Exodus, and then is reworked and nuanced in various ways throughout the rest of that book. Here in the Book of Deuteronomy, in Parashat Eikev, Moshe will draw on several of those earlier images in order to frame a new religious message for the people about to cross over into the Land.

In this session, we will look at one of the most controversial - and censored - prayers in our tradition: Aleinu. How are we meant to understand the lines in these prayers? Who are the enemies and how might we relate to those concepts today? Who censored the prayers - and how? This class will explore all these questions through various textual traditions of these prayers. Recorded at the Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive, March 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/RYI2024KaunferAleinu.pdf

The opening of Parashat Va’Ethanan can serve both as a warning to us all, not to seek more power or privilege than is our due—but also as a reminder to honor our life’s accomplishments, and even to acknowledge, every one of us, our own greatness.  

Beresheit Rabbah (3:7) teaches that God created and destroyed many worlds before finally allowing this world, our world, to stand. This midrash is teaching us three things. First, destruction and loss are a part of the fabric of our very existence. There is no avoiding it; there is only wrestling and reconciling and accepting it. Second, the midrash contains in it a promise or a hope that even after each destruction, a new world is created. After loss, there is rebirth. After the destruction of one world, there is the creation of the next.  

As we head into the Book of Deuteronomy, we will quickly notice that something has changed. The style of narration is different than we have seen in the Torah so far. This book will consist mostly of Moshe’s own words. The first five verses set the stage for Moshe’s great final oratory. What follows for the next 33 chapters is Moshe retelling the story of the journey so far, Moshe rebuking the people, Moshe adding new laws, Moshe reciting poetry, and Moshe giving blessings. 

The Talmud Yerushalmi tells a distressing and perplexing tale about a cowherd who goes off in search of the newborn baby messiah on the day the Temple was destroyed. We will read this story, with its enigmatic ending, and try to understand what its authors are trying to tell us about how we should respond in the face of destruction. Recorded on Tisha B'Av 2022. *Content warning: Please note that this class will discuss the potentially violent death of a young child. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/RosenbergTishaBAv2022.pdf

Moshe has an anger problem.  He is usually able to keep it under control.  By nature, he is a quiet man, a brooder.  He carries out his duties faithfully—as both a mouthpiece of God and a defender of the people.  But the tension between these two roles pulls at him constantly, keeps him agitated.  Sometimes the pressure gets too high… and he explodes.

Since October 7, the word "Amalek" has often been invoked in regard to the Israel-Hames War. Is that an appropriate analogy? By looking at ancient responses to biblical verses about Amalek, including those that express discomfort, we can learn these verses anew, revisit the foundational ideas that underlie the verses, and  shed light on present realities. Recorded at the Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive, March 2024. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/RYI2024HochsteinAmalek.pdf

For my mother’s 75th birthday, we surprised her by taking her to visit her mother’s childhood home.  I knew my grandmother had grown up in Los Angeles, but I didn’t know exactly where, and there were no living relatives whom I could ask.  So I did what anyone seeking information does these days: I Googled my grandmother’s name, hoping something would pop up. That modern technology led me to an ancient one: the census.  I found online copies of the first two censuses taken in my grandmother’s lifetime, one when she was 4½ and the next one when she was 15.  The second one was the jackpot: I found an address.But I also noticed that something had changed between the two records.  There was one fewer member of the house.  My grandmother’s father was no longer listed.  He hadn’t died—I could Google that information too—he was simply gone.  This confirmed a family story I’d overheard but never spoken about with my grandmother: that her father had run out on the family when she was 11 and she had never spoken to him again.  There it was, in black and white, a tragic tale between the lines.  It’s amazing what you can learn from reading a census, if you know what to look for.

Tomorrow, we arrive at the second of the four annual fasts commemorating the destruction of the Temple.  According to the Mishnah (Ta’anit 4:6), 17 Tammuz marks the end of the offering of the tamid, the daily sacrifice, as well as the breaching of the city walls.  Until this point, despite the siege, the routine of Temple life had continued with the tamid as the daily offering before God.  But from this point forward, as a result of the siege, there were no longer lambs left to bring to the altar and the tamid went unoffered.  This break in Temple life, along with the breaching of the Temple walls, must have been heartbreaking for those living in Jerusalem.

Balak, King of Moab, has been made uneasy by Israel’s recent string of victories over enemy nations, and has begun to worry that he will be the next to fall before them.  He decides to seek the advantage with a preemptive strike, hoping to weaken the Israelite forces before they have a chance to advance against him.  His first plan of attack, however, is not military, but magical: he will hire Bilaam, a local prophet, to curse Israel, and thus doom them to defeat.  Bilaam seems open to the task and, after several stops and starts—including an incident with a talking donkey—he heads out to perform the curse.  But when he opens his mouth to unleash the curse, the spirit of God takes over and, instead of cursing Israel, he blesses them. 

Halakhic works are often a dizzying compendium of multiple perspectives on a given issue, often making it difficult to determine how to behave in a given situation. In this lecture, R. Ethan Tucker argues this is a feature rather than a bug. Critical values that are meant to guide our lives are rarely fully manifest in any given time, place, or situation. It is our job to discern the wisdom of each voice and allow that wisdom to make a claim on us, rather than submitting ourselves to one path. Recorded at the Halakhah Intensive, May 2024.

There is probably no more playful instance of wordplay in all the Torah than the nehash nehoshet, the copper snake described in Parashat Hukkat.  With its string of repeated consonants, it sounds like it could be another of Dr Seuss’ whimsical creations, living in the same strange zoo with “the Cat in the Hat,” “Yertle the Turtle,” and “the Fox in Socks.” Yet the nehash nehoshet appears in the midst of a story that is anything but whimsical.  In chapter 21 of the Book of Numbers, the Children of Israel have once again questioned the decision to leave Egypt.  God, once again outraged by their ingratitude, sends a den of deadly snakes to attack.  The people ask Moshe to pray on their behalf, he does, and God responds with a strange solution.

Rav Dena explores a Hassidic teaching from the Me'or Einayim which discusses a dimension of physicality that we rarely pay attention to: given that taste is not necessary to sustain us, why is food delicious? More perplexingly, why does some food taste good to some, but not to others? What is the relationship between what is physically nutritious and what is spiritually nourishing? Recorded at the Winter Learning Seminar, 2024.

From the very beginning of Parashat Korah, the Torah places unusually strong emphasis on his lineage.  He is introduced not just with the standard patronym, but with three generations of ancestors, tracing him back to the tribal founder, Levi. A midrash in Bemidbar Rabbah picks up on this extended chain of forebears and suggests that it is there to alert us to the underlying motivation for Korah’s confrontation with Moshe.

The genre of midrash has a reputation for taking creative license. In midrash, we come across the wildest stories our Rabbis ever told, and it sometimes feels like they can say anything. Yet the midrashic method was guided by precise rules of interpretation as well as general norms of discourse. But who keeps track of the rules and who monitors the discourse? Can a midrashic interpretation ever be deemed beyond the limits? Recorded at the Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive in March 2024.

The big story in Parashat Shelah is the story of the spies.  The people are nearing the Land of Canaan, and Moshe sends ahead men, one from each tribe, to cross the border, check things out, and then bring back a report.  So they head out for 40 days, return safely—and, at first, all seems well.  They confirm that the land, as promised, “flows with milk and honey” (Numbers 13:27).  But then the conversation turns.  They begin to spill out all kinds of fears: the cities are fortified, the people are gigantic, and the land… “devours its inhabitants” (Numbers 13:32).

Traditionally, the fabric of Jewish observance is composed of 613 mitzvot and many many more granular instructions. To some of us, these small details are a core piece of what it means for us to serve God, while for others of us these details seem like both an abstraction and a distraction. Does God really care about ounces and inches?! Recorded as the introduction to the Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive in March 2024

Moshe’s unique status as the greatest prophet of Israel is challenged twice in this week’s parashah—but in neither case does Moshe himself seem to care.

What is Judaism ultimately about? What vision of the good life does it offer us, and why might that vision be especially crucial during these dark times? This discussion of Rabbi Shai Held's new book, Judaism is About Love, was held at Congregation B'nai Jeshurun in New York City on March 26, 2024, with Rep. Jamie Raskin, facilitated by Sandee Brawarsky.

Parashat Naso is thematically structured in the form of two “exterior” chapters and two “interior” chapters.  A careful study of this design can provide insight into the larger significance of “מחנה ישראל - the Camp of Israel.”

While I love learning Torah, I have a very poor memory for it.  More often than not, when I re-encounter a piece of Torah that I have surely learned before, it’s as if it’s for the first time.  Given on the one hand, my love for Torah and a genuine desire to learn Talmud and Midrash, Hasidut and Musar, and on the other, the inevitability that I will forget all of this Torah I learn, I find myself wondering on this Shavuot, what is the point?  What is the point of staying up late all night long learning Torah that I know at worst by next year’s time I will have already forgotten and, at best, will just become a shady shift-shaping memory of something I once learned?  Often I have the experience of feeling the shadows of Torah I once learned shimmering on the peripheries of my brain, so close and so far, unable to be recalled into concrete existence.

The five books of the Torah—like the 54 parshiyyot—are by tradition each named after their first significant word or phrase.  In the case of the fourth book, the name is taken from half of a semikhut (construct) phrase: “בְּמִדְבַּר סִינַי - in the Sinai Desert” (bemidbar Sinai).  The custom has developed to use just the first of the two words: bemidbar, meaning just: “in the Desert.”  That leaves us with a particularly evocative title, one that casts us out into a vast unknown, and vaguely suggests impending danger.

I am blessed to have three kids, aged 9, 6, and 2—this means a lot of first days of daycare and school.  These first days are always exciting for us and for them.  We know that they will make new friends, have new experiences, grow and learn in unimaginable ways.  Yet they are also days filled with trepidation; they set off for new and unknown experiences for which we can’t accompany them.  On each of these days, we tuck a family photo in their backpack in a safe place.  With this gesture, we are trying to say:  “Take this with you.  We will be with you whenever you need us.  We hope that that photo can be a source of love and strength and comfort throughout the day.”According to the Zohar, the rainbow from the story of the Flood tried to look after Moshe in the same manner that we try to look after our children.

One of Rashi’s comments in this week’s parashah highlights the rabbinic tradition of interpreting a feature of Hebrew script known as “אותיות חסירות ויתרות” (otiot haseirot v’yeteirot), “missing and extra letters.”  The Hebrew alphabet has no vowel letters, and in most Hebrew writing, the vowel notations (nekudot) are not included; we know how to pronounce words based on context and tradition.  But certain vowels are sometimes “carried” by a silent letter, either a vav (ו) or a yod (י).  In writing words with those vowels, common practice dictates whether they are written with the silent letter or not.  When the writing deviates from common practice, we get the phenomenon of “missing and extra letters,” known in Latin as “defective” and “plene scriptum.”  For our Rabbis, who presumed every letter in sacred scripture to have been carefully and intentionally selected, an extra or a missing letter was understood to be an encoded message, waiting to be deciphered.

When my dad died in my early 20s, I remember being wowed by the ways in which grief came in waves.  One minute, I was crying and couldn’t imagine ever moving through my sadness and several hours later, I was surprised to find myself laughing—actually able to laugh—within the first days of my dad’s death.  With confidence, I realized, this was the way it was going to be.  Each time that I cried and each time that I laughed, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.  The grief and the joy—they would keep coming in turns, like waves rolling in and out in their own time.

One of the hallmark Rabbinic interpretive techniques is the identification of parallel wording in two different sections of the Torah. In legal interpretation, this is the foundation for the second of R. Yishmael’s “13 principles by which the Torah is interpreted”: the gezeirah shavah, or “the rule of equivalence.” This principle, first quoted in the name of Hillel the Elder, posits that if the same word or phrase appears in two distinct legal cases in the Torah, that is an indication that we can apply the parameters of one law to the other. The original and paradigmatic form of the gezeirah shavah was one in which the word in question appears only twice in the entire Torah.  When there is only one other location that a linking word takes us to, then the inference from one context to the other becomes especially strong.

I am lucky to live a life with no food sensitivities.  I can eat what I want and I’m happy to be an “easy guest,” quick to assure hosts that I have no special food needs.  However, several years ago, in an attempt to identify the cause of my migraines, I found myself a person suddenly with many food sensitivities I was told to avoid.  I went from being a person who could eat everything to a person who approached each meal with anxiety, wondering what food I would find to fill myself up. I was no longer the easygoing guest able to eat whatever was served to me.  Rather, in people’s homes, at conferences, in restaurants, if I was going to eat, I needed to advocate for myself.  I needed to speak up and ask for what I needed.  I found this experience very challenging: I felt uncomfortable identifying my list of food sensitivities; I felt awkward being on the receiving end of special accommodations.  “I would make do,” I thought, “I would manage.”  What happened to being the “easy guest” I pride myself on being?  This experience gave me a small window into so many other people’s lived experiences who are forced to advocate for their needs on a daily basis.

Every year, by good calendrical fortune, we read in Parashat Emor the commandment of Sefirat ha-Omer, the “Counting of the Omer,” during the period in which we actually count the Omer.  This moment of sync between reading and ritual presents us with an opportunity to recognize our contemporary practice as continuous from the words of the Torah.  Yet when we begin to read through those words, we quickly see that our counting ritual today looks very different from the original mitzvah.  

I have always found it difficult to find an observance of Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’Atzma’ut that feels meaningful and authentic as a Jew living in the Diaspora.  In Israel, the observance of these holidays is effortless and all-encompassing: you simply have to be present and you are in it, flowing from the intensity of Yom HaZikaron to the joy of Yom Ha’Atzma’ut.  It’s the music on the radio, it’s the tzfirah (siren) in the streets that brings everything to a halt in a moment of silence, it’s the communal get-togethers on Yom Ha’Atzma’ut.  In America, I feel far from all of these observances.  In my home, on these days, we tune into Israeli radio, we stop for the tzfirah, we try to make that tricky transition from grief to joy as Israel moves from a spirit of mourning to celebration.  But, I am distant.  Short of a couple of pieces of liturgy on Yom HaZikaron and hallel and a special Haftarah for Yom Ha’Atzma’ut, there is little to mark these days outside of Israel.  If I’m honest, my observance of these days in the past has felt shallow, like a well-meaning observer trying on someone else’s clothes, copying someone else’s rituals, in an effort to feel close.

The style and content of Parashat Kedoshim remind us immediately of an earlier reading: Parashat Mishpatim—back in the Book of Exodus, just after the revelation.  Both parashiyyot are composed almost entirely of dense legal code: one law after another, for chapter after chapter.  And both open with a framing statement naming a value category that characterizes the laws that follow.With this structural similarity, the Torah places the two primary values named by the two codes—justice and holiness—into dialogue with one another.  We see this in our parashah, whose initial focus is on holiness, but very quickly veers into justice.  But the reverse process we can already see in Parashat Mishpatim, which begins with principles of justice, but eventually turns to holiness, with language that will anticipate Parashat Kedoshim.

For many of us, the past six months have been an education in powerlessness.  From where I sit in America, I felt powerless hearing about the brutality and depravity of October 7.  I felt powerless sitting comfortably in my home while day after day people were held hostage in underground darkness, uncared for and unseen.  I felt powerless as the death toll of Palestinians civilians rose and Gaza’s population fell into immense suffering.  I could do my one minute a day to call my representatives to demand an immediate release of those held hostage.  I could check in with friends and family in Israel with messages of love.  I could donate to organizations getting aid to Palestinian civilians in Gaza.  But, at the end of the day, what power do I have to stop a war, free the hostages, and end the suffering of so many people?  I feel powerless.

With the mishkan operational and the priesthood now in place, Parashat Aharei Mot begins with a description of the service that will be the pinnacle of that system: the Yom Kippur Avodah.

We Jews, who have been perennial outcasts, ought to read the Torah’s account of the leper with particular care.“Leper,” we should note from the outset, is not really an accurate rendering of the Hebrew, מצורע (metzora).  The biblical affliction of tza’arat is clearly different from what we today call “leprosy,” most obviously so because it can only be fully cured by spiritual means.  Yet the King James translation is helpful in its way, not only because it reminds us of similar symptoms, but also because it gives us a familiar historical point of comparison.Toward the end of last week’s parashah, Tazria, the Torah begins to catalog all manner of skin afflictions and finally comes upon tzara’at—what we’ll call leprosy for the time being.  Then, in Parashat Metzora, we move to the process for curing the leper.  

Ever wondered why we have to drink four cups of wine at our Seders? This class explores the history and the symbolism of this idea and how it transforms from something more functional to the framing around the entirety of Seder night. Fittingly, there are at least four different ways to think about these cups! Recorded on 4/10/24. Source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Tabick4Cups2024.pdf

From the very beginning, the Torah imbues certain numbers with great significance.  The first chapter of Genesis carefully divides Creation into seven days.  Seven then becomes the most significant number in nearly all Jewish time rituals—not just Shabbat, but Pesah, Shavuot, Sukkot, as well as the seventh month, the seventh year, the seven cycles of seven years—all of which are then imprinted with the themes of that first seven: creation, rest, and rejuvenation.An awareness of the Torah’s “numbers of distinction” and their significance can help us decode  the complex structure of the birth ritual that opens Parashat Tazria, and the mysterious set of numbers it contains:

There's a catchy song that tells us what we're supposed to do during the Seder and when (Kaddeish Urhatz). But when you dig a little deeper, the song is a little simplistic for the actual Seder structure. How can the giant Maggid section be covered by a single word? And why is Hallel actually split into two? Rav Elie discusses the overall structure of the Seder. Recorded in March 2022 and available as part of a video series on the Haggadah (https://hadar.org/torah-tefillah/resources/seder-really-so-ordered) and our YouTube channel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2H4xWZqaeIg).

Throughout our history, one of the central institutions of a Jewish community has been the mikveh.  Immersion in this ritual bath was required in Temple times in order to purify oneself after coming into contact with various types of tumah (ritual impurity).  Since then, the practical need for a mikveh has been relegated primarily to the laws of sex and conversion.  Yet the mikveh has taken on a greater significance in Jewish life than its specific halakhic applications would suggest.

In this panel discussion given at the February Learning Seminar 2024, Hadar’s rashei yeshiva, R. Ethan Tucker and R. Aviva Richman, reflect on their approach to Jewish law and how our quest for God can be lived through the details of our halakhic lives.

For the most part, Parashat Tzav repeats much of what we learned last week in Parashat Vayikra.  Again, the Torah details the choreography of the sacrificial system—only this time from the perspective of the priest.  All of the offerings from last week show up again.  But there is at least one thing that is unique to Tzav: a shalshelet.

To what extent is Jewish law “fake” or “real”? Is halakhah a game where you can say whatever you want, or does a ruling, once issued, create a new reality? What are the underlying principles of kashrut and Jewish food laws? Recorded live at Hadar's Manger Winter Learning Seminar in January 2024. Source sheet available here: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/RosenbergInsensibleFoodLaws2024.pdf

The laws of Leviticus appear to be entirely separate from the narrative and themes of the Torah so far.  Exodus, by contrast, picks up directly from the narrative of Genesis, and—as we have seen—even the case laws in Exodus sometimes make subtle references to earlier stories.  But when we enter Leviticus, we feel ourselves to be in another kind of book entirely.  There is no narrative at all in here the first parashah.  Instead, the book opens by listing the various types of korbanot (sacrificial offerings), and the precise details involved in their ritual preparation.  Speaking directly to the priest, absorbed in the procedural realm of the mishkan (tabernacle), it is as if this middle book of the Torah is detached from the world that has come before it.

As someone who longs to feel God’s presence in my life in a clear and direct manner, I have always been struck by the fact that God is noticeably absent from Megillat Esther.  In a story that is about the near demise and heroic salvation of the Jewish people, it is not God’s hand that is featured in this story as the saving force, but rather the human hands of Queen Esther and her uncle Mordechai.  What is Megillat Esther teaching us about living in a world in which, as in our own, God’s presence is unseen?  

There is something hidden in the mishkan. A story of creation.Nehama Leibowitz, the great 20th century compiler of Torah commentary, calls our attention to a group of modern scholars who sensitized us to the use of repetition as a rhetorical device in the description of the building of the mishkan.  She cites a list of the greats: Buber, Rosenzweig, Benno Jacob, Cassuto, Meir Weiss, and others, who all highlight the way key phrases in our text echo an earlier story in the Torah—the earliest, in fact.

From one perspective, pregnancy is a miracle. But from another, pregnancy is a nightmare. In her essay that won the Ateret Zvi Prize in Hiddushei Torah, Rabbanit Leah Sarna argues that the Jewish tradition makes space for both of these stories about pregnancy. This presentation and conversation with Rabbi Tali Adler is from February 2024.

Is there meaning in a measurement?  Two great masters of midrashically-styled Torah commentary—both writing in 14th century Spain—will offer two very different interpretations of a particular form of measurement that appears frequently in this week’s Torah reading: the half.

Shabbat is described in the Talmud as a "good gift." But aren’t all gifts supposedly good? What makes Shabbat a gift that is uniquely positive in contrast to other gifts which do not receive this stamp of goodness? The Ohev Yisrael explores.Transcript and source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/WeissTisch5-5.pdf“Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ach L'elokim," and “Hu Elokeinu” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records

The person recovering from the biblical disease tzara'at has to bring, in addition to their offering, a piece of cedar wood and a piece of hyssop. The Ohev Yisrael tells us that these items are symbolic for the two character traits we need in order to do true teshuvah: pride and humility.Transcript and source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/WeissTisch5-4.pdf. “Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ach L'elokim," and “Keyli Ata” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Parashat Ki Tissa makes repeated reference to God’s “face” when describing Moshe’s communication with God.  But what exactly did Moshe see when he looked into the face of God?  A comparison to Moshe’s own use of parallel imagery later in the Torah gives us a fuller sense of the visual experience of revelation.

According to the Ohev Yisrael, the Israelites preferred to live under physical oppression in Egypt than to live in a state of spiritual indebtedness to God. How could this be? What is this teaching us about spiritual labor? Transcript and source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/WeissTisch5-3.pdf. “Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ach L'elokim," and “Ki Anu Amecha” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

When kids ask big questions, how do you respond? Whether you are parent, educator, or just a curious person, you've probably asked yourself the same questions.This podcast doesn’t have all the answers, but it can give you language and frameworks to engage meaningfully with these questions. Every week, Rabbi Shai Held invites an expert guest to explore a big question: Who is God? Why did God create the world? Why do bad things happen? No pressure.  

The Talmud recognizes two very different forms of teshuvah (repentance): "teshuvah out of love" and "teshuvah out of fear." Both of these forms of teshuvah are sincere and “real” forms of teshuvah, though they come from very different places. The Ohev Yisrael helps us see that teshuvah out of love is a quest for excellence and true improvement, and that this is the model of what we should aspire to. Transcript and source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/WeissTisch5-2.pdf “Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ach L'elokim," and “Ki Anu Amecha” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.  

One of the most dazzling of all the ornate garments worn by the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest, was the tzitz (ציץ), a tiara that that encircled the turban on his head, forming a sort of crown.  In the front, resting on his forehead, was a plate of gold sealed with a boldly proclaimed message: “Holy to the Eternal!”  But the intricate design of the tzitz was encoded with other, hidden messages that complicated its meaning.

Gifts are more than their monetary equivalents. A gift can be an expression of love and affection, of fear and obedience, an obnoxious demonstration of wealth, or a powerful equalizer of means. By thinking about our donations to build the mishkan (tabernacle), the Ohev Yisrael teaches us that being willing to step into the receiving role, to be humble and accepting, is itself a gift. Transcript and source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/WeissTisch5-1.pdf“Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ach L'elokim," and “Hu Elokeinu” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

This week, we are introduced to what will become the holiest object in the Hebrew Bible, although it is not really so much an object as it is a container. The Ark will occupy the innermost sanctum of the mishkan, the “Holy of Holies,” and it is from above the Ark that God communicates with Moshe (see Exodus 25:22).  The camp of Israel was centered around it at rest, and carried it with them as they marched through the wilderness.  A midrash, however, notices that this Ark, the Aron ha-Edut, was not the only aron the Children of Israel carried with them through the wilderness.

How can we access Torah? Who has the right to speak Torah? The hasidic rebbes encourage us to reach deep inside ourselves for the eternal springs of Torah. Come learn texts about how each of us holds Torah that the world needs. This lecture was originally recorded at Hadar's Manger Winter Learning Seminar in December 2023.

Even as Parashat Mishpatim marks a sharp transition from epic narrative to dense legal code, the first law of that code makes it clear that the stories of the Torah have not been forgotten.  

By looking closely at a passage from Jeremiah, Rav Shai in his lecture "Build Homes and Pray for the Peace" of Babylon, explores the relationship between hope and realism, exile and home, in the Bible and today. Originally recorded in Summer 2023. Download the source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/EXS2023HeldJeremiah.pdf

The last of the Ten Commandments is distinct from the rest in several ways.  Structurally, it is in the second five, but it stands out from the others.  After the clipped language of six through nine, all fitting into one verse (“do not kill, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not bear false witness against your neighbor”), this last one suddenly takes up a whole verse to itself - and a very strange construction at that.

The Jewish people live in eternal covenant with God, but what is the relationship of that covenanted people to the Land of Israel? Is it eternal, or affected by the passage of time or historical context? What does our tradition say about Jews wielding power in the Land of Israel? How are Jews meant to take responsibility for themselves through power, and what happens if they fail?This lecture, delivered in memory of Dr. Eddie Scharfman z"l in January 2024, offers sources, framing, and reflection on contemporary questions of Jewish power and the Land of Israel. 

In Parashat BeShallah, the Children of Israel are tested twice, and then they do some testing of their own. 

Tu Bishvat is a holiday that is about slow growth, patience, and gratitude.  In a culture that is all about instant gratification and next day delivery, Tu Bishvat teaches us to slow down.  It requires us to wait.

Just as we are about to arrive at the apex of the Exodus drama—the final plague and the actual departure from Egypt—the Torah makes a sudden shift in genre.  Chapter 12 opens with, “This month will be for you the first of months,” the marking of the new moon, the first mitzvah given to Israel—and with that, the Jewish legal tradition officially begins.  Having established the calendar, the Torah immediately begins detailing the rituals for what will become the first of its yearly observances: Pesah.  At the center of those rituals are two related mitzvot (eating matzah and not eating hameitz) that together will serve as keys to understanding the role of the mitzvot  in the life of the new people of Israel.

In Letter from Birmingham Jail, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  addresses his critics and writes, “Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.” To be a real ally and advocate for change requires more than just good intentions and lukewarm support; it demands deep understanding and personal accountability.  I worry that I might be just the kind of person with shallow understanding and good will about which Dr. King wrote.  

R. Avi Killip rejoins R. Avital Hochstein and R. Elazar Symon to talk about our relationships with our children. What are we trying to inculcate in them? And what do we hope that they can remind us about?

Many theories have been offered to explain the Torah’s use of multiple names for God.  Medieval kabbalists understood the names to be expressing different aspects in the manifold nature of the Divine.  Early modern biblical scholars took the same phenomenon as evidence of the composite nature of the Torah.  In Parashat Va’Era, the Torah itself addresses the issue, and suggests that the critical question may not be what God’s name is, but who’s asking.  

In the last of this series from Spring 2023, Rav Tali returns to R. Yehudah ha-Nasi and his interactions with another friend/antagonist: Bar Kappara. In what ways does Bar Kappara try to teach Rabbi the Torah he thinks he needs to hear? How can someone without power teach someone who has power? Download the source sheet here: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Adler2023TorahBelong3.pdf

From the moment we begin the Book of Exodus, we are already being called back into Genesis. The very first words of Parashat Shemot are: taken directly from Parashat VaYigash, during Ya’akov’s actual journey down to Egypt, where the Torah gives us a list of all the members of his household. The Ramban, in his masterful fashion, manages to quickly give both a philosophical and a literary explanation for the repetition of the verse.  As a matter of reading strategy, then, he explains that the Torah uses the callback as a device to emphasize the interconnectedness of these two books. Genesis and Exodus are thus connected not only through an ongoing storyline, but also through a set of interlocking word parallels.  

Part 2 this series from Spring 2023 centers the character of Rabbi, also known as R. Yehudah ha-Nasi, the leader of his generation. Rabbi is concerned lest the Torah get beyond his control and be misunderstood. His student and friend, R. Hiyya, on the other hand, thinks the Torah should be heard far and wide. What happens when these two rabbis come into conflict? Where does the Torah belong? Download the source sheet: https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Adler2023TorahBelong2.pdf

One of the Torah’s signature literary techniques is the use of textual echoes: the repetition of roots, words, or phrases that call us back to an earlier moment in the text.  The echo establishes an associative link between the earlier passage and the latter, and encourages us to consider comparisons between two different sections of the Torah.  In Parashat Vayehi we are given the epitome of all echoing phrases, one that became a symbol for the power of echoing itself.

In this first lecture in a series of 3 taught in Spring 2023 (Who Does Torah Belong To?), Rav Tali Adler explores the character of R. Elazar ben Arakh and why his colleagues couldn't understand what he taught. What can we do if we feel like the world is not ready for what we have to teach?

Asarah b’Tevet (the 10th of the month of Tevet), marks the beginning of the end of the First Temple.  It marks the beginning of a 30-month period in which the Jews in Jerusalem found themselves pressed on all sides, overcome by the army of the Babylonian empire, with little hope in sight. What was it like for them to be at the beginning of this period of great uncertainty? Did they hold on to hope and, if so, what was the nature of that hope? Or, from the beginning, could they only think about the end, fearing their own destruction at the hands of the Babylonians? 

My mother tongue was no tongue at all, but a pair of hands.  My parents were both deaf, so my first language was American Sign Language.  I didn’t think much about it at the time; when you’re a kid, your parents are just your parents and your life is just your life.  It is only in retrospect that I have come to appreciate how profoundly the experience of growing up in a Deaf family, and spending my early years signing as well as speaking, has shaped my relationship to language in general. So when I came upon a deaf character in the Torah, of course I took notice.  To be more precise: the character is in the Torah, but his deafness we learn from a wild story in the Talmud.  How the Talmud arrived at that connection is a wild story of its own.

R. Avi Killip and R. Avital Hochstein introduce Dr. Tsivia Frank Wygoda, a new member of Hadar's team in Israel who supports independent minyanim in Be'er Sheva and southern Israel. They reflect on how war pushes us to think in terms of black and white binaries, and yet, the reality - politically, morally, and emotionally - is such more  more complex. Are there limits on what we are allowed to feel and how we can express these feelings?

In Parashat Mikeitz, a time of great crisis brings people together from across the world, desperate for help. Their savior will be a young Hebrew prisoner with the rare ability to speak “לכל עם ועם כלשונו - to every nation in its own language.” Although the narrative of the Torah is written in Hebrew, its characters are not always speaking Hebrew themselves. What does this tell us about Joseph's ability to interpret dreams and its greater significance? 

We are all plagued by fears and anxieties, both rational and irrational, founded and unfounded.  Often, when we are afraid, we keep our fears to ourselves, letting our inner voices run wild as we play our worst fear on loops.  What if I am sick?  What if I am not good enough?  What if we can’t make it work?  Maybe we don’t want to share our fears because fear can be mixed with other complicated emotions like guilt and shame, anger and doubt.  Perhaps the story of Hanukkah is teaching us that, even and especially in moments of fear, there is strength in being in the experience of that fear together, and sharing that vulnerability with one another.

R. Avi and R. Avital talk about the tumultuous week of the ceasefire and returned captives. What are the values that animate the conversation about who should be the priority to bring home? How can we even put relative values on people? And how can we live out our values and imagine a better world in tough times?

Certain unique landscapes in the Torah carry a strong association with a particular kind of experience.  A garden reminds us of innocence (Genesis 2:25).  A mountain is a place of revelation (Genesis 22:14, Exodus 19:20).  At a well, one might find love (Genesis 24:11-13, 29:9-11, Exodus 2:15-21). A far more common landscape in the Torah is the field.  The field is not usually where the main action takes place.  We take it for granted as a background setting, where work happens, or through which travelers pass.  So when we come upon Yosef wandering through a field in Parashat VaYeishev, we may not make much of it.  According to a midrashically-styled reading by the Keli Yakar, however, a deeper understanding of the field is precisely what might have saved Yosef from all the disaster that will follow.  

R. Avital Hochstein and R. Elazar Symon take the opportunity - belatedly - of Thanksgiving to talk about what they're thankful for and the difficult but necessary role of thankfulness in tefillah

The Torah often employs a “bookending” technique, using similar words or phrases in both the first and last verses of the parashah, in order to create a thematic frame for the action in the middle.  Parashat Vayishlah’s bookends are especially pronounced, in that its first and last verses each end with the same word: “אדום - Edom.” What is the significance of this bookend and what can it teach us about the relationship between Ya'akov and Esav?

What, if anything, can we say in the wake of the Shoah? In this series, we'll explore the main currents of post-Holocaust Jewish theology through thinkers like Richard Rubenstein, Eliezer Berkovits, Yitz Greenberg, Emil Fackenheim, and Melissa Raphael; and we'll investigate how philosophers of religion grapple with the problem of evil. But rather than just analyze their thought, we'll also ask what Jewish theology in the present moment can and should say - and can't and shouldn't say - about grappling with God in the wake of the Shoah.This lecture was recorded as part of Hadar's 2023 Fall Lecture Series.

It can be hard to say thank you. I know, for myself, sometimes after abandoning the kitchen at night to a sinkful of dishes and a couch covered in clothes waiting to be folded, I wake up in the morning to a clean sink and folded clothes, and I find myself so grateful to my wife’s midnight work. Obviously, I should say thank you and I owe her more than just a thank you. Yet it’s hard for me. There can be something awkward about gratitude. There is something uncomfortable about admitting that you are indebted to someone else.  Because, in truth, I feel not only gratitude, but guilt that she did this work while I slept.

What happens in a beit midrash during a time of war, violence, and uncertainty? We checked in with R. Avital Hochstein and R. Elazar Symon, both members of Hadar's team in Jerusalem, to discuss what learning Torah means in this difficult time and what this war reveals about Israeli society.

By the time we arrive at Parashat Toldot and come upon two brothers vying for the mantle of family leadership, we can already predict with some confidence that it is the younger brother who will prevail.  If we have been reading Genesis carefully so far, we know: in this book, when brothers are in competition, the firstborn never wins.  

What, if anything, can we say in the wake of the Shoah? In this series, we'll explore the main currents of post-Holocaust Jewish theology through thinkers like Richard Rubenstein, Eliezer Berkovits, Yitz Greenberg, Emil Fackenheim, and Melissa Raphael; and we'll investigate how philosophers of religion grapple with the problem of evil. But rather than just analyze their thought, we'll also ask what Jewish theology in the present moment can and should say - and can't and shouldn't say - about grappling with God in the wake of the Shoah.This lecture was recorded as part of Hadar's 2023 Fall Lecture Series.

Animals often play a symbolic role in literature, sometimes as personified characters themselves, and sometimes through their frequent association with a human character. In Parashat Hayyei Sarah, wherever Rebecca goes, camels seem to follow her—and we begin to understand they have something to do with her.  They will function as the vehicle for finding her and then bringing her back to the land of Canaan, and they will even serve as the key figures in determining whether she is the right partner for Isaac and the next matriarch in the covenant. 

In the second part of this special series, we check in with Rabbi Avital Hochstein, President of Hadar in Israel, to hear about life in Israel, Tefillah, and Torah this week. 

What, if anything, can we say in the wake of the Shoah? In this series, we'll explore the main currents of post-Holocaust Jewish theology through thinkers like Richard Rubenstein, Eliezer Berkovits, Yitz Greenberg, Emil Fackenheim, and Melissa Raphael; and we'll investigate how philosophers of religion grapple with the problem of evil. But rather than just analyze their thought, we'll also ask what Jewish theology in the present moment can and should say - and can't and shouldn't say - about grappling with God in the wake of the Shoah.

In our society, everything - from commercials products to political ideas - is constantly being scrutinized. What is gained and what is lost in such a critical world? To answer this question, he Ma'or VaShemesh goes all the way back to the beginning - to the Garden of Eden."Ki Anu Amecha" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

The Talmud (in Yevamot 49b) tells us that Moses’ prophetic powers were exceptional because he saw “באספקלריא המאירה - through a clear looking glass.”  How, then, do we account for ambiguity in the Torah?  When we encounter a passage whose meaning is obscure, do we presume some failure in our own understanding?  Or is it possible that the Torah of Moses is sometimes deliberately ambiguous?

Avital Hochstein is a rabbi, a Jerusalemite, a mother of two soldiers currently serving in the IDF, and President of Hadar in Israel.In this episode of Ta Shma, we hear directly from R. Avital and Hadar's beit midrash in Jerusalem. What parts of Torah can we reach for? How can we pray and what can we pray for? What does ritual and communal life look like in the shadow of this tragedy?  

Moral licensing is our tendency to excuse our own bad behavior based on prior good behavior. While the Ma’or VaShemesh did not use the language of modern behavioral psychology, he did suggest a paradoxical way to avoid this kind of self-justification: doing  teshuvah both before and after learning Torah and performing mitzvot."Ki Anu Amecha," "Ah Shtarker Bistu," and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Our practice of cycling through the Torah over and over again, year after year, creates a unique  reading experience.  After we have been through enough times, we begin to hear echoes not only from what has come before, but from what will come after.  Here in this first chapter of Abraham’s story those echoes are particularly loud.  We hear them not only in recurring images and themes, but also in familiar words and phrases that seem to be laid out here and there like little clues, prompting us to follow along.

Taking a vow is a serious halakhic undertaking, and Rabbinic law warns us against taking them hastily. But even if a voew is ultimately annulled, it's possible that for the vow - the words we saw when we feel the most desperate - to be part of a broader process of growth and change. The Ma'or Va'Shemesh explains."Ki Anu Amecha," "Ah Shtarker Bistu," and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

God wants us to serve Him with excitement and joy, which is reflected in the lighting of the the Menorah. The Ma’or VaShemesh reads the lighting of this lamp on the part of Kohen Gadol as analogous to the igniting of religious fervor that can often happen when people are in the presence of great religious teachers and inspirational spiritual leaders. Like the flame which achieves independence from the spark that ignites it and then draws from its own fuel to keep the light burning, so too, people need to draw from their own internal resources to maintain excitement and to be internally motivated to keep on growing."Ki Anu Amecha," "Klimovitcher Nigun," and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Noah is a notoriously difficult character to pin down.  Is he being presented as one of our heroes, to be emulated for his exceptional virtue, or as a tragic foil for the real heroes to come?

At Sinai, people hear God’s voice. But a Midrash records that what they were most impressed by a glimpse of the entire community of the angels in heaven, and the way that the angels were arranged. What could possibly have been so moving about the angels' formations?“Mitteler Rebbe,” "Ki Anu Amecha," and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

The Torah signals to us from the start that words have great power.  A book that opens with an account of a world created through divine speech acts reveals its own interest in the creative possibilities of language.  So we can expect this text to choose its words carefully, deliberately. We might not, however, have expected the extent to which the Torah is willing to manipulate the other features and forms of language in order to communicate ideas.

At the end of the day, or perhaps at the end of the Jewish calendar year, am I actually a better person as a result of the many hours given over each year to Torah study? Or, am I the same person I was before, just another year older?

In our prayers, we often call God “ברוך - blessed.”  What images might this word evoke, and how might it deepen our connection to God, the source of blessings?

For much of our lives we are unable to receive or offer the holding and embracing that we need. Sukkot is yhe holiday that invites us to pause—to hold and to be held.

The search for God will span a lifetime. But once a year the dynamic is different. If Judaism offers up life as a giant game of hide and seek with the Holy One, Yom Kippur is the one day when God doesn't hide. The game is paused, and God emerges in search of us.

The idea that God can revive the dead became central to our prayers and Jewish theology in general.  But what does this “resurrection” entail?  Do we have to take it literally, or can we understand it in a more metaphorical way?  And what do we lose without the literal meaning?

There is a halakhic obligation to eat on the day before Yom Kippur. What is the nature of this obligation? Where does it come from? What can it teach us about the meaning of Yom Kippur itself and the process of Teshuvah? Recorded for Hadar's onliene yom iyyun on Erev Yom Kippur 5789.

Akeidat Yitzhak, the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah, is usually seen as the ultimate Jewish model of personal sacrifice. But is willingness to die for God really the epitome of sacrifice? In this session, R. Tali Adler  explores a midrash that questions Akeidat Yitzhak's role as the central model of personal sacrifice, and offers a story about Rachel our Matriarch as an alternative.

How are we meant to begin the process of teshuvah, returning to God?  Is this something we initiate, or does God help us to begin?  Or perhaps it is some combination?  How is this process understood in the Torah and in our Amidah?

In a newly released video and audio series (originally recorded in 2020), Rabbi Elie Kaunfer introduces aspects of the High Holiday Mahzor as we prepare for the upcoming Hagim. This is the first of these introducing the Malkhuyot (or Kingship) section of Rosh Hashanah Musaf. You can go to hadar.org and sign up for the WhatsApp group to receive this video and audio series every day.

In Parahsat Ki Tavo, the word “amen” appears 12 times in 12 consecutive verses (Deuteronomy 27:15-26).  It is also a word that features prominently in our prayer experience, usually in response to the prayer leader’s prompt.  But what does this word mean?  What is happening ritually when we say “amen”?

In what way is the Talmud like a recipe book? In this panel event that brought together an incredible slice of the New York Jewish community, Hadar’s Rabbi Miriam-Simma Walfish leads a discussion about a revolutionary new cookbook, "Feeding Women of the Talmud, Feeding Ourselves," collected by Kenden Alfond. Learn not only about this book but also about the women of the Talmud and mustard seeds! 

Jewish identity is irreducibly made up of both religious and ethnic components.  One of the situations where this complexity comes to the fore is for converts (or in Hebrew: gerim), people who become Jewish but do not necessarily have ethnic Jewish ancestors.  And yet, our liturgy is full of references to the “God of our ancestors” and similar formulations assuming an ethnically Jewish background.  How should Jews by choice interact with a liturgy that assumes, at least sometimes, that those who recite it are Jews by birth?

Putting together a lot of her teaching over the years, Rabbi Avital Hochstein explores the verb “to see” in the Torah. How can seeing someone else create connection and mutual understanding? How can seeing help us evaluate what is good and right?

At the end of the Amidah, we ask for God to “שים שלום - grant peace.”  But the word “שלום - peace” has multiple meanings, and it is not clear exactly what we are asking for in this moment.  Is this a request for broad political stability, or something more personal?  How might we understand this request for peace and how it relates to our prayer life?

One of the most quintessential human emotions is regret. Regret is so intimately tied with my sense of human frailty and fallibility that it’s always jarring for me to read that the Torah describes God as having this feeling! Really? God regrets? It’s as unfathomable as it is comforting.“Yemin Hashem,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” are from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

God, understandably, demands the first and the best. In the Torah, this mostly is about agricultural produce. But the Degel Mahaneh Efrayim extends this idea to the best part of ourselves: yes, our successes, but also—perhaps more importantly—our failures, our tears.“Ah Shtarker Bistu,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” are from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

In many prayers, we call God “אבינו - our Father.”  What biblical allusions are we drawing on when we say this, and what are we trying to express when we call God “our Father” in prayer?

It's almost impossible to imagine people with more different life experiences than Moshe and the Israelites. Moshe grew up in the palace; the Israelites were building palaces as slaves. It seems impossible that they'll be able to talk to each other, because our images of Who God is are so rooted in our life experiences. We learn from Moshe how to be humble in listening to the experiences of others.“Keyli Ata,” “Mitteler Rebbe,” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Ours is a culture of media consumption in large and often indiscriminate amounts. This is in part because we don’t view ourselves as transforming and being transformed by all of these inputs. But perhaps the question is in fact a far deeper question about identity. Perhaps we need to acknowledge the extent to which the culture we consume is a culture that we participate in and help promulgate. “Mitteler Rebbe” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

What does it mean to call God “great, mighty, and awesome,” as we do in the first blessing of the Amidah?  Perhaps we are praising God as creator of the world, or redeemer of the Jewish people through miracles. After all, these are “great, mighty, and awesome” acts, which humans could never perform.  But the biblical context of this phrase points in a very different direction.

Avraham is the epitome of the kind and gracious host. But there's more to the alchemy between hosts and guests than just the practicality of dietary restrictions and clean sheets. The Ba'al Shem Tov, as told by his grandson, the Degel Mahaneh Efrayim, explores the Torah that comes from this interaction, and the idea that Avraham still got something from his guests, without undermining the selflessness of his mitzvah.“Mitteler Rebbe” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Recent years have pushed us to examine the foundational structures of so much in our world.  Previously unthinkable realities have called into question the stability of systems we believed to be stone-clad.  On the global level, we never imagined a pandemic, fragile democracies or a multi-year war in europe.  In so many ways we have had to face the fact that what we thought would be around forever turned out to be unstable.  Over and over again we have been surprised to see what might burn.  

We often think of prayer as motivated by personal needs: I pray for myself or others close to me.  But one of our prayers specifically asks us to focus more broadly and pray for our religious leaders.  Why is this so important?

How do we—and ought we—respond to suffering? R. Miriam-Simma explores stories in the Talmud that express the extent of Jerusalem's destruction through a focus on food. Recorded on Tisha B'Av 2022.

Before the destruction of the first and second temples, Shiloh was destroyed. Discussed in Yirmiyahu and alluded to in Shmuel, Shiloh is the spiritual center that we often overlook in Jewish history, and whose destruction and its lessons we too often forget. How can Shiloh's destruction inform what we mourn for today? Recorded at Tisha B'Av 2022.

Why is there a fixed liturgy to the Amidah? After all, if I am meant to pray to God with focus and intention, shouldn’t I use my own personal words, and not words that were written by others long ago?

Those who mourn tremendous losses know that the rupture is ongoing and often cannot be contained by marking a single anniversary. When was the last celebration we shared? When did they first get sick? When did hospice start? When was the last time we spoke? Marking several dates can be painful, but also sometimes enlivening. The annual moments of memory provide ongoing connection to relationships that would otherwise begin to fade. They allow us to keep the memory alive and ever present. To love someone who has died is to be in a constant state of longing for them. The longing is the relationship.

What does it mean to call God a king in our prayers? What kind of king is God, and how might we as worshipers engage with that metaphor?

A close reading of Devarim 15 explores such questions as: What kind of social ethic does Devarim seek to instill? How does it work to ensure that there will be no permanent underclass in the land of Israel? What strategies does it use to motivate people to treat one another generously? How does Devarim radicalize the laws from Shemot? Recorded at Limmud NA 2023.

In ancient times, in order to come as close as possible to God’s presence in the Temple, one had to be considered holy—fully purified and separate. When we pray to God today, must we be in a similar state of holiness? How might we relate to the concept of human holiness in our prayer life?

Even though the dominant view of anger in Jewish tradition is that it is a bad character trait that should be avoided, there is one passage from the Talmud that suggests anger can be productive or even necessary in certain circumstances. In his class, “Righteous Anger, Useful Anger,” Rav Micha’el puts this sugya into conversation with modern philosophical takes on anger, especially an article by Amia Srinivasan. What comes out of this comparison is a fascinating and nuanced discussion of what anger is for and whether anger can ever be useful, productive—or even good.

One of the distinctive features of traditional Jewish prayer and study is shuckling, moving back and forth. The Zohar explains that this movement of the body is more accurately understood as the movement of the soul. The spirit of holiness and purity moves in response to the connection that it feels when engaging with holy words. The body is moved by the passion and excitement that the soul feels in connecting with God.The Kedushat Levi links this motion back and forth with a core human trait: our fear of intimacy, going toward the fire of revelation, but pulling back as well. How can we navigate this tension?“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Moshe addresses God three times in one verse with the word “You.” In our prayers, we speak directly to God, calling God “You.” Why is this so, and what is the significance of addressing God in this way?

When the Torah outlines the need for judges and enforcers, it takes pains to say that they should judge the people with a righteous judgment - but isn’t justice that is not righteous not justice at all? Why does the Torah need to underscore the need for tzedek, righteousness?And how does Kedushat Levi understand God’s system of justice?“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Perhaps the most miraculous time described in the Torah are the events of Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt. In fact, God says explicitly that Pharoah will delay “letting the people go” so that He can send even more miracles and wonders. The story of the Exodus reads in some way like a long advertisement for God’s power and strength.But the Kedushat Levi knows that splitting the sea is no more difficult for God than making the sun rise, even though one of them looks miraculous to us and the other looks totally natural. So what is the point of God's miracles?“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

Praying for the sick is a core part of Jewish worship. One of the earliest examples of this is Moshe’s prayer for Miriam in Parashat BeHa’alotkha, one of the most intense and shortest prayers in the Torah. What can the form and style of Moshe’s prayer teach us about how to pray for the healing of others?

Noah is sort-of a hero. On the one hand, he was selected by God to build the ark and save his family and a sampling of animals. On the other, there's no indication that he tried to save anyone else. The Kedushat Levi asks: why is it that Noah was the way he was? What lessons can Noah teach us about faith and self-esteem?“Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

Welcome back to "The Tisch with Dena Weiss: A Taste of Hasidut,” a mini-series for Ta Shma. In this next batch of episodes, Dena Weiss introduces the Kedushat Levi, a classic work of Hasidic thought written by R. Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev.Love and fear are often thought of as being very distinct, opposite poles of our relationship to God. The Kedushat Levi dismantles this paradigm and the strict division and argues that love and fear are closer than they appear, that love is, in fact, dependent on fear. “Yemin Hashem” and “Nigun Hisva'adus” from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar’s Rising Song Records.

In Parashat Naso we read what is known as the Priestly Blessing, or Birkat Kohanim. This is a moment in which God blesses Israel, through the medium of the priests. This 15-word blessing became one of the most important liturgical pieces in Jewish tradition. Indeed, this serves as part of the conclusion to the public recitation of the morning Amidah. How are we meant to understand this blessing in the context of our prayers?

Torah should be read slowly. Very slowly. One idea—and maybe even one word—at a time. To experience Torah at its most sensual, most fragrant, is to read it slowly and lovingly.

In Parashat Bemidbar, we see the critical importance of separation from the holy, violated by Nadav and Avihu's bringing "strange fire" to the altar. This is directly connected to Havdallah, when we separate between the holy day of Shabbat and the rest of the week.

Jewish sources come down hard on the evils of forgetting Torah, going so far as to consider one who forgets one item of learning "as if he were mortally liable!"  Yet who among us hasn’t struggled to remember that piece of learning we did years ago...or even yesterday. As we approach Shavuot, a holiday in which we celebrate Torah by staying up late to learn Torah that we will most likely forget, we'll explore whether there might be positive value in forgetting Torah. No memorization required!

The tenth blessing in the daily Amidah, which asks God to return those in exile, begins, “Sound the great shofar for our freedom…” What kind of freedom are we praying for? And why does a shofar blast herald this freedom?

VaYikra Rabbah is one of the great midrashic collections from the land of Israel in the Talmudic period. In this 4-part class, we will examine one midrash each week, learning to appreciate the craft of this unique genre while holding tight to its spiritual messages.

One of the themes in Sefer Vayikra is the holiness of God. God calls Godself holy five times in the book. In some ways, this is the opposite of our liturgical experience, where we, the worshipers, address God directly and call God holy. What does it mean to say to God as part of our daily prayer: “You are holy”?

Redemption cannot happen without everyone. We learn this lesson from the Seder ritual, when we open our homes by inviting guests and asserting that all who are hungry come and eat. But the idea of radical inclusion is perhaps most clearly found in the laws of the pesah sacrifice itself. Every person should join a group that will offer the pesah sacrifice and eat the entire offering together. Nobody can be left out. This mandate to include everyone in this sacrifice extends so far as to necessitate the creation of an additional make-up holiday for those who were unable to participate in the primary pesach offering. This second-chance holiday is called Pesah Sheini (“Second Passover”), and falls each year exactly one month after Pesah.

The Kaddish contains an anomaly: a liturgical phrase used to respond to God's name, but no triggering mention of God's name. Noting God’s missing name in the prayer, how are we meant to experience the Kaddish? This is a prayer that highlights our sense of the reality in which we dwell, where God’s presence is often experienced as distant. In a world with so much suffering and destruction, God can feel far away. This prayer, built on a response to the name of God that is never uttered, gives voice to that feeling of distance.

The concept of the “קדושת הארץ - sanctity of the Land” simultaneously gives meaning to, and creates a tremendous challenge to, life in the State of Israel. Yom Ha-Atzma’ut, the birthday of the State of Israel, is an opportunity to ask: What is the meaning of living in a place to which holiness is attributed? In what ways is it possible, worthwhile, and appropriate to exist on a daily basis in that holy place?

Asking God for healing is a core aspect of prayer. But the ideal form of this prayer (as expressed in the Amidah) pushes us to widen the circle of our concern. What is the proper model for prayers of healing?

There is no Judaism—no understanding of Jewish history or culture or theology—without accounting for the Shoah. This part of the Jewish story is now canon. For the past eighty years, we have encountered this story directly from the people who endured it. When this last generation of survivors are gone, what will change? How will their absence impoverish us? How will their memory and lessons live on?

Imagine how Aharon must have felt, watching his sons die, on what should have been the greatest day of his life: the inauguration of the system of sacrifices meant to draw God and Israel closer to one another. What is the emotional stance encouraged by the Mourner’s Kaddish? How might the words of Mourner’s Kaddish reflect the grief that mourners experience?

What can cleaning for Pesah teach us about the limits  ownership and responsibility? R. Avi Killip shares reflections on the holiday from this year's Hadar Pesah Reader, "L'Or haNer: The Light of Discovery."

How can God command us to feel a particular emotion? While we often can't change feelings on demand, Shabbat offers a pathway for how actions and rituals can cultivate emotions. "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

How are we meant to conclude the Amidah? What is the emotional orientation to the end of an intense encounter with God?

Every single Jewish soul is as integral to the Jewish people as every letter in the Torah scroll. No person is dispensable. "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

It can feel impossible to approach an infinite and all-powerful God. But God desires closeness with us, with the limited power that we do have, in all of our imperfections and humanity.                                                                      "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

There are many instances in our prayers where we repeat phrases, paragraphs, or whole sections. What is the significance of repetition in prayer? God's repeated calls of "Moshe, Moshe!" can help us look at this repetition in new ways.

On Shabbat, the liturgy is missing a central element: petitioning for our needs. What is the purpose of prayer on Shabbat and what can it teach us about having a relationship with God?                                                               "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

The revelation at Mt Sinai transformed the relationship between God and Jewish people. After the sin of the Golden Calf, both had to find a way to move forward - not in spite of their broken-heartedness, but because of it. "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

The rhythm of our week includes a day dedicated to feeling God’s presence differently from the rest of the week: Shabbat. A prayer recited only on Shabbat, beginning with the words Yismah Moshe (“Moshe rejoiced”), explores our connection to God and Shabbat through the lens of Moshe’s experience of God.

Welcome to a new mini-series for Ta Shma, the Tisch with Dena Weiss: A Taste of Hasidut. Each episode will feature bite-sized insights from Hasidic thought on spirituality, ethics, and character development. These episodes are short – but they are packed with big ideas. But first: what is Hasidut? How is it like or unlike other kinds of Jewish learning, and why should more people try it? To set the table, R. Avi Killip sat down for a discussion with the Tisch's host, Dena Weiss. "Mitteler Rebbe's Kapelya" and "Nigun Hisva'adus" from RAZA Kapelya (2023) by Chana Raskin. Produced by Joey Weisenberg and Chana Raskin for Hadar's Rising Song Records.

Moshe asks to know God’s ways. But this is not a philosophical exploration about the nature of God. It is a question with a purpose. What is the knowledge we need in order to pray and to connect to God? How might this knowledge help us approach God, even if we might feel distant from God’s presence?

The revelation at Sinai is a high point in the Jewish story. It is the moment when God gives us the mitzvot—and we accept them. But, the Talmud tells us that the commandments were actually accepted twice: once at Sinai, and again in Persia, during the time of Ahashverosh. Exploring these two moments in tandem allows us to see how personal empowerment can lead us to approach God with love.

In the moment of prayer, how are we meant to feel close to God, beyond reciting the words of the Siddur? How might we feel a connection to God through our tactile experiences? The plate of the High Priest (tzitz) and our tefillin hold some answers.

One of the classic questions about the book of Esther is: why isn’t God mentioned? What does this mean for the book and for us? R. Shai Held explored some of the most vexing theological questions in this recording from summer 2017.

If God’s presence fills the whole world, why does it seem easier to connect to God in some places rather than others? This paradox is central to understanding the concept of the mishkan, God’s dwelling place on earth.

The midrashic composition, Shir HaShirim Rabbah, develops the allegorical reading of Song of Songs as a love story between Israel and God. The verse "Let God kiss me with the kisses of God's mouth," for example, is read as reflecting a close, even radically close, intimacy between Israel and God. According to the midrash, the verse implies an instance of direct and close-up interaction with God and the Torah. R. Berger explores this midrashic idea and discussed the implications of such a relationship with God and the commandments.This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2022.

How are we meant to orient to our day when we wake up? In what ways can a short blessing about God opening our eyes set our intention for the day to come?

As we watch storms surge and fires burn, the changing climate has moved from an abstract fear to an ever-present reality. The enormity of this crisis demands a complex type of faith, a different kind of prayer, and a theological reckoning. How can we bring our fears and hopes to God? What might it look like to pray about climate change? In the Dr. Eddie Scharfman Memorial Lecture from January 2023, Rabbi Avi Killip explored the wisdom that Jewish tradition has to offer for this time of global crisis.

Ideally, prayer is a pouring out of the soul. But in Jewish practice today, people don’t only pray when they feel moved to pray. We are mandated to say the Amidah multiple times a day, and we can’t guarantee that each of those moments will be characterized by intention, or kavanah. Should I pray even if I don’t know if my heart will be in it?

Growth is gradual, so slow in fact that it cannot be tracked in real time. We need an annual date as a marker of a specific moment, before and after seasons of change. Like all birthdays, Tu Bishvat invites us to celebrate, to notice the beauty in slow growth, and to appreciate the potential of what is yet to be born.

What does it mean to pray to God when we are experiencing pain? One approach understands God as intricately tied to our suffering, and indeed, in need of redemption as well. How might we understand that position, and where is it found in the liturgy?

Rabbi Tali Adler teaches a beautiful combination of midrashim about the lulav and etrog—which completely rethinks our relationship with God and God’s relationship with us. Before and after, Joey Weisenberg plays one of his original compositions. Recorded in Summer 2020 as part of a course "Melody and Midrash."

How do we relate to our enemies through prayer? Can we pray for their failure? Might we ever pray for their welfare?

Our rabbis imagine an intense confrontation between Eli the high priest and Hannah, our model for how we recite the Amidah. Explore this fascinating midrash and think about the power of prayer in the hands of forgotten members of society. This lecture was originally delivered at the Summer Learning Retreat in 2021.

Is it worth persisting in prayer, even if we aren’t answered right away? What does it mean to pray for something for years—or even decades? Moshe can serve as one model for addressing these questions.

Anyone living in America today will eventually encounter racism they cannot easily fix or change, just as our ancestors could not entirely avoid or correct idolatry. What do we do when that happens? How can we reject ideas as pervasive and corrosive as racism? The Talmud’s reflections on the struggle against idolatry raise similar questions and offer instructions on how to actively demonstrate objection through our behavior so that we do not unintentionally uphold the status quo. The anti-idol mandate can teach us a lot about how to live in a culture we see as fundamentally evil, even when we do not have the power to change it. Transferring idolatry to racism, the entire tractate of Avodah Zarah can be read as an attempt to think through how to live an anti-racist life.

Our most fundamental prayer, the Amidah, doesn’t mention Moshe by name. But the scene of Moshe at the burning bush is one of the central images of the Amidah’s first blessing. How does Moshe’s subtle presence change how we might experience the opening of the Amidah?

Are you permitted to lie if the truth might be worse? In this series, Dena Weiss considers Jewish texts that span time and space in order to arrive at a set of concrete guidelines and best practices for having painful conversations. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Winter Lecture Series in January 2021.

Where is God in my life and why am I stuck in a difficult place? Will God ever intervene on my behalf, and help me—and all of us—come to a better place? What if I am skeptical if God can rescue at all? These are questions so often on the mind of those who pray. How do our prayer texts themselves give voice to some of these wonderings?

How do you share painful or unsettling news? In this series, Dena Weiss considers Jewish texts that span time and space in order to arrive at a set of concrete guidelines and best practices for having painful conversations. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Winter Lecture Series in January 2021.

How might we come closer to God in prayer? What are the physical acts that deepen the potential for relationship with God while praying? The rabbinic understanding of Yehudah’s actions offers some insight on these questions.

What do you say—or not say—to someone who has lost a family member? In this series, Dena Weiss considers Jewish texts that span time and space in order to better understand those types of situations and arrive at a set of concrete guidelines and best practices for having painful conversations.This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Winter Lecture Series in January 2021.

What do miracles tell us about God’s presence? How do we define the miraculous? Where does one miracle begin and human agency end? In this series, originally recorded in December 2021, we'll explore a text from Hadar's Hanukkah 5782 Companion, illuminating the evolving relationship between humanity and miracles. 

How are we meant to admit sin in our prayers? What is the model for confession after having done something wrong?

What do miracles tell us about God’s presence? How do we define the miraculous? Where does one miracle begin and human agency end? In this series, originally recorded in December 2021, we'll explore a text from Hadar's Hanukkah 5782 Companion, illuminating the evolving relationship between humanity and miracles. 

As we begin to close the Amidah, in the penultimate blessing that we call Modim, we say to God: “modim anahnu lakh,” we modim you. Drawing from the root י-ד-ה, the word modim has multiple meanings, each offering very different understandings of this blessing. This root word is also core to what it means to be a Jew, as it is the root word of Judaism (יהדות) and describes two aspects of the name of our ancestor Judah/Yehudah (יהודה). What does modim mean?

The sudden death of Aaron's sons Nadav and Avihu leaves readers stunned and grappling for answers. By turning to a modern midrash in the form of an original short theatre piece written by R. Avi Strausberg, we attempt to pause time and make space to not only understand the motivations for their offerings, but also how their sudden deaths impacted their mother, their father, and their remaining brothers.This session was originally delivered at Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

Ya’akov is preparing to encounter God directly through sacrifice, an analog to our experience of prayer. It has been decades since Ya’akov actually encountered God in this way, and now he is preparing for this transition back into direct relationship. Critically, Ya’akov prepares by asking everyone to purify themselves and to change their clothes. What is the significance of changing clothes?

In our prayers, we do not shy away from calling God directly by name, using the most holy four-letter name of God (although we don’t pronounce it explicitly). What might this name mean, and what might it mean in the context of prayer?

Our tradition sometimes uses the image of a shadow to describe human experience with God. This rich metaphor, which captures both a sense of safety and shelter as well as darkness and fear, helps R. Aviva to reflect on where we find ourselves in the complex and ongoing story of God and the Jewish people.This lecture was originally delivered at Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2022.

A major theme of Parashat Toldot is “ברכה - blessing.” This root appears 32 times in this parashah, more than in any other in the Torah. In prayer, we use the Hebrew root ב.ר.כ as the main verb of our blessing formula. What does it mean to say, “ברוך אתה ה׳ - barukh attah Adonai,” usually translated as, “Blessed are You, God”?

In several passages in the book of Jeremiah, the prophet seems to cry over the bitter suffering of his people; accordingly, Jeremiah has sometimes been referred to as "the weeping prophet." But there is another, very different way to read these passages, according to which it is God, and not Jeremiah, who is crying. In this lecture, Rabbi Shai Held explores the arguments for seeing the God of Jeremiah as "the weeping God," probing the theological implications of this startlingly anthropomorphic image. This lecture was originally delivered at Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2022.

How are we meant to pray words that we didn’t write? And how are we meant to pray those same words, multiple times a day?

Avraham alludes to a phrase found in our daily Amidah: "the King Who loves justice (tzedakah) and judgment (mishpat)." What does this phrase mean, and how might it relate to our own prayer lives? 

Questions of theology pervade efforts to facilitate cooperation and dialogue across religions.  We often search for what is common in order to build a sense of shared purpose across religious spaces that can look very different in practice.  In this lecture, R, Ethan Tucker looks at some of the laws surrounding Avodah Zarah - the rabbinic term for foreign or forbidden worship - and explores whether a claim of shared monotheism is sufficient to ground a sense of overlapping religious purpose. How far we might stretch the definition of monotheism in order to facilitate sharing social and religious space? This lecture was originally delivered at Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2022.

In this week’s parashah, we meet a character who teaches us a lesson in morality, and also ends up in the first blessing of the Amidah, one of our most important prayers. Surprisingly, this character, Malki-Zedek, is not part of the Jewish people! Yet Malki-Zedek teaches Avram - and, in turn, all of us - how to avoid moral pitfalls.

What happens when we try to pray, but we just can’t make it work? Is there any hope, or any strategies, for those of us who can’t always reach the heights of connection with God in every moment of prayer? A particular interpretation to a strange phrase in this week’s parashah offers us some guidance.

From the beginning of the Torah, humans have a fraught relationship with knowledge. The essence of da’at—knowledge—in Adam’s world is the tree of knowledge (עץ הדעת) of good and evil (Genesis 2:9). Adam is instructed to eat of all the trees, but not from the tree of knowledge (Genesis 2:17). When the snake speaks to the woman about the tree, he claims that once they eat of this tree, they will be like God, “knowing good and bad”—יודעי טוב ורע (Genesis 3:5).

We repent in order to go back to the way that things were, to repair what has broken, and to retrieve what we have lost. We often think of teshuvah as a type of reset button that enables us to erase the past, emerging healed and forgiven. But what if this understanding is erroneous? What if teshuvah does not change what we hope it will change and fix what we need it to fix? This lecture was originally recorded in Elul 2021.

The High Holidays are a murky time of transition. How can we balance the need to both take stock of our past and look forward to the future? In this lecture, Rabbi Micha'el Rosenberg considers different visions of teshuvah to guide us through this important part of the calendar. This lecture was originally recorded in Elul 2021.

Parashat Nitzavim falls in the thick of the season of teshuvah in the calendar. This is no coincidence—it is the primary source in the Torah for the concept of teshuvah. Although we will sin and face the consequences of our failures, Nitzavim teaches that we can find our way back to a life of blessing.

Where does Avinu Malkeinu come from, why do we say it on Rosh Hashanah, and what does it mean to call God “Our Father, Our King?” Rabbi Elie Kaunfer considers these questions in his lecture, which was originally recorded in Elul 2021.

In Parashat Ki Tavo, Moshe instructs the people to do an extensive ceremony when they come to a specific mountain after they enter the land. Many aspects of this ceremony are reminiscent of Sinai. A mountain, words of Torah written on stones, building an altar and offering sacrifices. It looks like a reenactment of entering into a covenant with God at Sinai and all of the obligations entailed by berit. But why is there a need to reenact Sinai? Wasn’t that one-time event powerful enough on its own to solidify entry into covenant for all future generations?

Rabbi Elie Kaufner explores the themes and intertextual references in Unetaneh Tokef. This lecture was originally recorded in Elul 2021.

Exercising leadership means taking responsibility. At the end of last week’s parashah, Shoftim, elders of a town closest to an unsolved murder proclaim they bear no responsibility for the murder and ask for atonement. Yet the Talmud learns from this ceremony of disclaiming guilt that leaders nonetheless bear responsibility—for example, to provide proper accompaniment as travelers leave their city. Blood of the heifer drips down their hands as they claim they have no blood on their hands.

Rabbi Aviva Richman examines the idea of God as King in the Musaf Amidah for Rosh Hashana. This lecture was originally recorded in Elul 2021.

Parashat Shoftim deals with the structures and nature of leadership. Early in the parashah, one passage explains that someone who has a hard question should go to the centralized leadership to ask, and then must obey the answer, on penalty of death. The point seems to be about reinforcing the power and authority of central religious leadership. But in the arc of ongoing interpretation, these verses become a provocative jumping off point to reflect on the nature of the encounter between an individual’s religious question and religious experts. It becomes possible to find in them a voice for the importance of asking our questions, not primarily to ensure obedience but because our questions have an important role to play in the unfolding of Torah itself.

Parashat Re’eh speaks of “desire” multiple times. From a religious perspective, we often think of desire in terms of how we may control it, or even completely suppress it. But actually religious life without desire is flat and one-dimensional. Ultimately, the richness and depth of our religious experience hinges on appreciating, valuing, and even cultivating desire. In Parashat Re’eh, we can trace an approach that embraces human craving and desire as a powerful mechanism to fully live a life of mitzvot, meaning and integrity.

In Halakhic Man, Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik suggests that teshuvah - usually translated as “repentance” - is not to be narrowly defined as turning from sin. Rather, teshuvah prompts us to reconsider all our habits and routines, including those that are not necessarily sinful. Doing teshuvah is really an expression of our capacity for self-creation and identifying and realizing our own potential. The goal is to attain our individuality, autonomy, uniqueness and freedom As we move through the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah (“Ten Days of Repentance”), we will explore Soloveitchik’s approach and grapple with what we are called to do during this important period.

Note: this Devar Torah relates to difficult subject matter, including loss and pregnancy loss.In Parashat Eikev, we are instructed to “walk in all of God’s ways,” but how is that possible for mortals? R. Yitz Greenberg has taught prolifically about being like God through a zealous commitment to the “triumph of life,” even when that is a challenging commitment to hold. Building upon his teachings, we can focus on an embrace of life that also involves integrating loss. Instead of loss as an obstacle that we try to defy, we can understand our capacity to hold loss as exercising a divine capacity we have, part of what it means to be created in the image of God.

In Parashat Va'Ethanan, Moshe beseeches God. He doesn’t get his request. Interestingly, the sages peg this moment of prayer as the entryway to explore the meanings of prayer more widely, jumping off from the word va'ethanan to list ten kinds of prayer connected to different verbs and different figures in the Torah. Taking Moshe’s unanswered prayer as the lens, we are invited into an exploration of what prayer is, entirely detached from the question of whether prayer is answered.

In Parashat Devarim, Moshe gives an account of Torah, reframing the journey in the desert for the next generation that will enter the land. Some commentaries find not so subtle subtexts in Moshe’s introductory remarks that create a bleak picture of Israel’s propensity to sin. Parashat Devarim always falls before Tisha b’Av, and this motif of rebuke aligns with a day that brings failures and destruction to the forefront of our minds. But taken in context, as the beginning of Moshe’s final speech to the people, an emphasis on sin is a depressing frame for a recapitulation of Torah. Perhaps the focus on rebuke is meant to motivate the people to be more careful in their actions. Even so, some interpretations veer away from a theology that constantly points a finger at our failures. Instead, we encounter a sense of God who takes responsibility to proactively steer humanity towards success.

Proverbs teaches that "life and death are in the hands of the tongue." Rabbi Aviva Richman explores the power of words and how we can use speech to heal, rather than harm others. This lecture was originally delivered in January 2022 as the Dr. Eddie Scharfman Memorial Lecture.

In Parashat Masei, Moshe receives detailed instructions about setting up cities of refuge. Unlike other mitzvot introduced as being relevant to when the people enter the land, Moshe can actually fulfill this mitzvah, at least in part. He makes sure to set aside three cities on the east side of the Jordan river before he dies. This may seem tragic, a desperate grasp for a taste of entering the land when the full experience is entirely shut off. Instead, we can see his efforts as a climax of his life’s work, a moment when his heart sang because he so deeply appreciated the meaning and importance of refuge.

In the final part of this lecture series, Rabbi Yitz Greenberg speaks with Rabbi Tali Adler about how we can maximize the potential for life in our everyday actions. This lecture was originally recorded in Winter 2022 as part of a series in partnership with Adas Israel Congregation in Washington, DC.

In this week’s parashah, we find a slight variation on one of the most common verses in the Torah. This minor shift in words reflects a profound revolution. At the end of his life, Moshe takes a leap in how he speaks to God, and how he shows up for the people.

In the second part of his lecture series, Rabbi Yitz Greenberg speaks with Rabbi Aaron Alexander. Rabbi Greenberg explores the commandment to have children, quality of life, and situations where preserving life overrules religious obligations. This lecture was originally recorded in Winter 2022 as part of a series in partnership with Adas Israel Congregation in Washington, DC.

In Parashat Balak, the ruler of Moav calls on Bilam to curse Israel. God ends up putting words of blessing in his mouth, and he speaks prophetically about the people of Israel. The episode raises questions about prophecy—when it is and isn’t present, and for whom.

What does it mean to choose life in an imperfect world? Rabbi Yitz Greenberg, in conversation with Rabbi Lauren Holtzblatt, offers examples of how Judaism teaches us to repair the world in an effort to uphold the value of life. This lecture was originally recorded in Winter 2022 as part of a series in partnership with Adas Israel Congregation in Washington, DC.

In Parashat Chukkat, the people complain again about their food in the wilderness, but this complaint is different from earlier complaints. They don’t remember the food in Egypt with nostalgia, nor do they crave a particular item. They are disgusted with manna.

In Parashat Korach, there are multiple accusations against Moshe and Aharon’s leadership and dramatic responses. Instead of viewing these through the lens of rebellion and punishment, one can view the various “demonstrations” as conveying divergent messages about the nature of God and what religious leadership looks like. Between the cracks of a fiery and violent display of God’s power, there is also a hint of a gentle, nourishing, but no less powerful, force.

Dena Weiss studies the Meor Einayim and explores what it means to refrain from spiritual work, not just physical labor, on Shabbat. This lecture is part 2 in a series originally recorded in November 2021.

In Parashat Shelach, twelve scouts scope out the promised land. They are on a mission to gain answers to specific questions, some about the land itself, and what kind of home it would be, and others about strategy for conquering the land. Fundamentally, it is a story of receiving an ancestral inheritance and doing the work to figure out what it will take to make it home.

Rabbi Shai Held conducts a close reading of Psalm 139. He looks at the original Hebrew and multiple translations, arguing that the literary ambiguity showcases the psalmist’s relationship with God. This lecture was originally recorded in Summer 2020.

In the simple instruction to kindle lamps in the mishkan, our interpretive tradition leaps into a theological spiral. What is the relationship between human light and divine light? The human role in creating light in the world becomes an opportunity to delve into the question of significance, or insignificance, of our efforts, and whether a sense of embarrassment is constructive or inhibiting.

If someone you wouldn’t endorse asks you for a recommendation, what would you say? Discussing the ethics around truth and lying, Rabbi Avi Strausberg presents multiple approaches to the topic and asks what to do when there may not be a clear answer. This lecture was recorded at the Hadar Rabbinic Yeshiva Intensive in 2020.

Parashat Naso includes the ritual of sotah. A husband brings his wife whom he suspects of adultery to the mikdash (sanctuary) where a kohen gives her a potion of “cursed waters” that either acquit her or punish her. From our earliest sages to the present moment, many nuanced interpretations of this anomalous and troubling ritual have emerged. We will focus on one Rabbinic principle that applies to the procedure of sotah, but has much wider implications for other rituals, and paves the way towards a theology of mitzvot embedded in honoring the dignity of each individual.

It's easy to emphasize the giving of the written Torah at Mt. Sinai. But what if the focus should be on Oral Torah? R. Tali Adler looks at the essential role oral Torah plays as a part of the covenant between God and the Jewish people.

As Israel traveled through the desert, they frequently erected the mishkan (tabernacle) anew. This means that they also deconstructed the mishkan frequently, dismantling what had been sacred. When we are so aware of the logistics involved in creating spaces to facilitate a sublime experience, it can become demystifying, for better and for worse. In Parashat Bemidbar, we get a behind the scenes view of the logistics of holiness, and a profound message about how to balance the mystique of kedushah alongside the very mundane—and relentless—work to sustain it.

The curses of BeHukotai resonate, and we can point to various societal failures that have contributed to this reality, reasons for God to be “angry” at us. Perhaps there is some efficacy in the fear and guilt that undergird the curses as we reach for a sense of control and agency. But severe problems are hardly so simple. As we face what is not a nightmarish curse but a harsh reality of uncertainty about sustainability and abundance, the punishment and guilt model might not serve us well. We have to stare these problems in the face, together, and find pathways forward.

What does it mean to have respect for Shabbat? Dena Weiss discusses how we can respect shabbat by making the day feel different through our clothing choices.

Shemittah (the sabbatical year) is considered one of the hardest mitzvot. But the mitzvah might not only be about inculcating discipline to the extreme. We can also understand Shemittah and Yovel (jubilee) as mitzvot meant to inculcate an extreme love.

Rabbi Shai Held and Shira Hecht-Koller take a deep dive into Psalm 104. Rabbi Shai Held explores the psalm line by line while Shira Hecht-Koller considers the perspective of a psalmist and what would inspire them to compose this type of poem.

Parashat Kedoshim explored the centrality of consent in a relationship with God, that one can’t be “coerced” to bring an offering. The importance of our will in sacred relationship goes beyond the basic need for consent. In Parashat Emor, we will develop another dimension of human will in sacrifices: the importance of intention and attentiveness. Sacred relationship becomes an exercise of cultivating radical ratzon.

What is our responsibility towards others who may feel jealous of what we have? Dena Weiss explores how to think about privilege and how we can act in a way that is sensitive to the experiences of those around us. This lecture was originally delivered as part of the Orange County Jewish Community Scholar Program in January 2022.

According to many interpreters, we achieve kedushah by curbing our desire. Holiness, in this view, inextricably entails suppression of our will. Taken to its extreme, this can lead to a notion that being in relationship with God requires blind obedience and negation of ourselves. In contrast, it is also possible to understand kedushah in a way that features—rather than suppresses—our will. Through an expansive reading of the concept of ratzon (will), we can strive for an ethics of kedushah that focuses on consent and mutuality as central to deep relationship, with God and others.

We live in a time of unprecedented climate emergency: greenhouse gas emissions are causing vast and irreversible changes to the the Earth’s climate. How should religious people respond to the crisis? Rabbi Shai Held takes a theological approach and response to the climate crisis, considering how the Bible describes God’s relationship with the Earth and the challenges humans face when they forget the divine role in creation. This lecture was originally delivered as a part of the Big Bold Jewish Climate Fest in January 2021.

In some rabbinic midrashim, biblical characters cross over into different story lines, creating whole new backgrounds for their characters. Rabbi Ethan Tucker looks at the stories of Boaz and Job to demonstrate that, by reading these new storylines, we learn important lessons we would otherwise miss. This is part 3 of Hadar's 2021 Fall Lecture Series.

Last week, in Parashat Tazria, we saw that our capability to be full partners in Torah is anchored in the messy and sometimes disorienting details of our embodied lives. In Parashat Metzora, we see the importance of narration, how giving voice to our experience plays an important role in a model of Torah and halakhah that conveys dignity and is a source of healing.

>Who are Hur, Yair ben Menashe, and Serah bat Asher and why do these minor biblical characters appear in midrash far removed from their own stories? Rabbi Ethan Tucker looks at each of their stories to demonstrate that their insertions are not random, but are based on close reading of the biblical narrative and a rabbinic desire to emphasize certain morals in the text. This is part 2 of Hadar's 2021 Fall Lecture Series.

Tazria is a parashah that people often find more repelling than compelling. Why so many words dedicated to bodily emissions and the intricate appearance of skin diseases? This Torah of the body touches on the relationship between halakhah and individuals’ embodied experiences.

When a midrash seems so fantastical and outlandish that you conclude it must be made up, you are probably not reading the text as closely as the midrash. Rabbi Ethan Tucker demonstrates how the midrash justly describes the reemergence of early biblical figures in later biblical narratives, and uses these figures to teach values and fill in gaps in the text. This is part 1 of Hadar's 2021 Fall Lecture Series.

It is hard to imagine a parashah more devastating than Shemini, or more of a testament to the stamina of enduring relationship despite all. When we experience the events of this day through the inner worlds of Aharon and his wife Elisheva, there is much to learn about relationship that persists through guilt, anxiety, and loss.

In times of despair and sadness, hope plays an important role. But can there be danger from too much hope? R.Avi Strausberg explores a wide variety of sources from the Talmud to modern poetry to explore how we can incorporate hope into our lives without being crushed by hope of a world that never comes. This lecture was originally delivered as the Dr. Eddie Scharfman Memorial Lecture in January 2021.

Parashat Tzav opens with an image of constancy, the fire on the altar that always burns, never extinguished. The unextinguished fire is not just practical, burning sacrifices throughout the day and fats throughout the night; it represents an ongoing and unwavering connection between the people and God. Yet, an honest religious life involves flux, times when we do feel strong connection and times when we don’t.

The first verse in Vayikra seems mundane and predictable; God speaks to Moshe in the mishkan (tabernacle), as God does throughout much of the Torah. Yet, the call of Vayikra is an unexpected gesture of intimacy. Through this lens, the whole book of Vayikra represents an invitation into relationship across apparent obstacles and boundaries. Vayikra asks of us: what are the ways in which we feel distant from God or others? What does it mean to hear a call beckoning us close in those very moments of distance?

How can Avraham bear to sacrifice his son Yitzchak without any show of emotion or despair? Dena Weiss offers an explanation to this question, using midrash to view the text through an emotional lens. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

The Book of Shemot ends in a striking tension: God’s presence fills the mishkan but also precludes Moshe from entering. Having shepherded the people into relationship with God, and having fought so hard to maintain that, Moshe now faces the possibility that the terms of his own relationship with God have drastically changed, as he is shut out of the mishkan. What can we learn from the model of Moshe about how to adapt to unexpected twists and turns in our own roles and relationships?

In rabbinic midrash, Moshe brings his case for immortality to God. What does Moshe argue and why does he believe he should be exempt from death? As R. Elie Kaunfer guides us through a text from Devarim Rabbah, we learn not only about Moshe’s fear of mortality, but also about our own anxieties around death and running out of time. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

There is a classic debate about the order of the Torah with respect to the passages about the mishkan (tabernacle) and the golden calf. In one view, it was written in order, with God’s intention for the mishkan derailed by the people’s sin, but ultimately restored as they achieve forgiveness. In the other view, the text is out of order, and the mishkan came only in response to the people’s sin. When we integrate the insights of both sides of this debate, we land on a third approach that emphasizes the power of taking initiative in relationships, even though we aren’t certain what to expect.

For most of the week, and most of our lives, we devote ourselves to the hard work of slowly getting closer to what we most hope for and long for, in terms of who we can become, the relationships we have, and what our world can be. We are always aware of the work that remains to be done. We take a break from this work on Shabbat, not just because we are tired and need time off, but to bring a sense of our true selves into clear focus, and to know that what feels like the unattainable vision towards which we strive can actually be real.

“God said, 'let us make human beings in our image'” (Genesis 1:26). Who is God speaking to and what does it mean to be made in God’s image? Rabbi Shai Held dives into the midrash on this text, offering rabbinic explanations to these questions and unearthing the theological and ethical questions that come up along the way. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

Terumah and Tetzaveh offer a visual landscape of the mishkan, its structure, its furnishings and the dress of those who served in it. One thing that is lacking from this picture is a soundscape. The Torah doesn’t indicate that any words were recited in the mishkan, in prayer or in song. In fact, if we picture the mishkan based on this week’s parashah, the only sound was from the jingling bells on the bottom of the robe worn by the Kohen Gadol. The resonant sound of these bells evokes the steady rhythm of the high priest in worship, but also carries painful overtones of what is most haunting and unresolved as we try to approach the Divine.

For centuries, midrash has helped reconcile problematic, troubling, and hurtful texts by understanding them in a new light. In this lecture, Rabbi Avi Killip studies modern women’s midrash from the book “Dirshuni” that offers one approach to hearing, and maybe even healing from our most difficult texts. That is the power of midrash. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

Parashat Terumah brings us to what is a sort of epilogue—though also, in some ways, a prologue—of the love story in three scenes we saw between Israel and God in earlier parshiyyot of Shemot. Beyond Sinai (articulating commitment and marriage), we come to the moment of “moving in” as we build a home in the form of the mishkan. Through intertwined acts of human and divine hospitality, Parashat Terumah teaches us to cultivate a readiness to give of ourselves to shelter and care for another, even when we cannot always clearly envision the recipient—or even the utility of what we have to give.

The very first law of the extended laws of Parashat Mishpatim starts with a horrifying phrase: “When you acquire a Hebrew slave.” We were just, two weeks ago, freed from being Hebrew slaves. How could the Torah possibly articulate the words “Hebrew slave”? This first law in Parashat Mishpatim forces us to confront the fact that oppressive structures become entrenched, and won’t disappear overnight. The dramatic liberation story is over. Now starts the much harder work of finding redemption within unideal and often harsh realities.

The Rabbis lived in a very different world from the biblical “great, mighty, and awesome” God. Rabbi Yitz Greenberg explains how the Rabbis interpreted this depiction of God in a time of human free will and limited divine power. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

In Parashat Yitro we come to Sinai, the final formative scene in reading the Exodus as a story of how Israel and God "fell in love." Strands of our tradition depict Sinai as a kind of wedding between us and God. In some depictions, Israel blindly agreed to enter this relationship even without knowing all the commitments involved. In other traditions, each person was fully informed of the details beforehand. Exploring these different versions of Sinai we see the importance of informed, affirmative consent as the bedrock of any relationship of intimacy. At the same time, it reminds us that in the deepest relationships of our lives, we can never fully know what might be required of us.

In recent decades, Tu Bishvat has become a holiday for trees and to raise awareness and concern for our natural environment. This year, as we celebrate Tu Bishvat in the midst of a Shemittah year, it is a powerful opportunity to notice the ways Jewish laws on produce and agriculture come at the intersection of the natural environment and social equity. Particularly on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, this intersection is especially poignant. As we celebrate Tu Bishvat of Shemittah this year, let’s remember that we must build a world where blessings are not only shared, but shared in effective ways with those whose access may be riddled with obstacles and hazards.

Last week, we began an exploration of the different stories of how Israel “fell in love” with God. Far from a naive picture of the beloved who swoops in to make everything better, digging deeper into these texts we find a more rugged texture of how redemptive relationship interfaces with complex realities. This week, we will explore the relationship between parents and children, their respective relationships with God, and how these webs of relationship shape each other.

Our tradition invites us to explore the nature of redemptive relationship. Instead of reading the Exodus as primarily historical or mythic, a prominent strand among our sages interprets the Exodus intimately and poetically, through the lens of the Song of Songs. The narrative becomes the origin story of our covenantal relationship with God — or, one might say, the story of how we fell in love.

Some people see Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs, as an allegory for the love between God and Israel. Some see it simply as a love poem. But what if it’s both?! R. Shai Held takes us through intertextual references in Shir HaShirim and the history of ancient perfume to try to convince us that maybe Shir HaShirim can be both an allegory and literal text at the same time. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar’s Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

Sometimes we need a new name for God. The ways we’ve known God so far may feel limited, inadequate, or even disappointing. Moshe is lucky enough to have God disclose a new name, one that will usher in redemption. Learning new names for God that represent a different kind of relationship, or new ways for God to show up in the world, is not generally so straightforward. Sometimes we have to be proactive, whether out of gratitude or desperation, and call God into being in new ways.

Where does our story of slavery begin? These are times when our own ancestors mistreated or enslaved others, perhaps laying the groundwork for the kind of oppression that would end up enslaving us. Noticing these moments is about becoming aware of how our choices about how to exercise power shape the communities and world our descendants will inhabit.

Get to the roots of gender in the Torah by turning to the opening narratives of creation in Genesis 1 and 2. What might these two different accounts of the creation of the first man and first woman imply about the Torah's understandings of gender and gender roles in relationships? Moving beyond the Torah, we meet Lilith, the woman who breaks the mold and challenges stereotypical notions of gender. Through a close encounter with Torah, traditional midrash, and contemporary interpretations, we'll examine and reexamine notions of gender and relationships in hopes of better articulating our understandings of gender and gender roles in relationships. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

Yosef and his family are reunited, and we might hope to find meaningful resolution and reconciliation between brothers. Instead, we discover communication gaps, accompanying persistent guilt and fear. When we embrace the mess of Sefer Bereishit that has so much unresolved conflict, we can be inspired to expand our views of reconciliation and forgiveness.

In the Bible, where characters are generally multifaceted, the first murderer in the Bible, is a notable exception -- until we consider the world of midrash. R. Tali Adler teaches about Kayin through the lens of midrash and discusses how this character might serve as a surprising religious role model. This lecture was originally delivered as part of Hadar's Summer Learning Retreat in June 2021.

What is the tone of Yehudah’s approach to Yosef? Surprisingly, early traditions emphasize the aggressiveness of the encounter, suggesting that Yehudah approached “for war.” Even more surprisingly, we learn that we are meant to adopt this very stance in our own daily prayer. We too must cultivate the capacity to fight for what conviction and compassion demand, day in and day out.

In Parashat VaYeishev, Yosef repeatedly resists the advances of Potifar’s wife. In the wake of modern and contemporary sexual revolutions, there has been pushback on a sexual ethics based on boundaries and “purity” in favor of a sexual ethics that focuses primarily on consent. Consent is critical, but sometimes too narrow a lens to understand the significance of sexuality in our lives. Upon closer look at Yosef’s encounter with Potifar’s wife, we find an approach to sexual ethics that intersects with fundamental questions of identity and purpose.

The most devastating part of the story of Dinah is that the Torah does not share Dinah’s perspective. We have no idea if this was “the rape of Dinah” or an encounter she desired. This gap is not surprising, but as inheritors of Torah we must ask ourselves how we inherit this part of our Torah responsibly.

Through a discussion of midrashim on the Book of Devarim, Rabbi Aviva Richman dives into the various roles of Torah as intermediary, a place for grief, joy, atonement, darkness, and more. She teaches the Torah, like rain, is limitless. Listen in to enjoy the journey of inspiring Torah thought.

"Recognition”—or lack thereof—emerges at pivotal moments of Yaakov's unfolding story, and reverberates to his children as well. Following the theme of recognition in Ya’akov’s journey allows us to address these fundamental questions for ourselves: Do we deserve the blessings we have? Do we get the blessings we “deserve”?

What does a fictional mystery-solving queer woman rabbi have in common with a real-life 17th-century woman rabbi, scholar, and miracle-worker? In this episode, Sigal Samuel and Rachel Sharona Lewis, both Yeshivat Hadar alumni, share more about their groundbreaking books, “The Rabbi Who Prayed with Fire” and “Osnat and Her Dove: The True Story of the World's First Female Rabbi.” This conversation was moderated by Hadar’s Editorial Director, Dr. Elisheva Urbas, and was originally held on April 26, 2021.

R. Aviva Richman shares her thoughts on Parashat Toldot. When Yitzhak blesses Ya’akov, disguised as Esav, it introduces a gap between being seen for who we are and finding blessing. It leaves us yearning for the kind of blessing that comes not from hiding ourselves but from being fully recognized. We’ll explore different aspects of the relationship between recognition and blessing over this week and next. This week, our focus will be the significance of faces and being seen.

In this episode, Rav Tali dives into the overall picture of what returning and rebuilding will look like in the communal spaces in our lives. What might it look like to return to institutions that we left behind? To the shuls and workplaces and schools? Rav Tali explores the return of the Jewish people from the Babylonian exile and draws comparisons to our experience today.

In this episode, Rav Tali delves into the experience of the messy emotions of reuniting with loved ones after the pandemic. Times of extended separation can change the nature of a relationship and Rav Tali offers tools to navigate the changes. Rav Tali makes space in this talk for some of the more difficult emotions.

In the spring of 2021, as many Covid-19 restrictions were lifted and more people began re-entering their social worlds, R. Tali Adler gave Hadar’s Spring Lecture Series on the “Torah of Reopening.” In this episode, Rav Tali addresses the oh-so-complicated array of emotions that arise as we explore re-engaging with the world, dealing in particular with “fear before we open the door.” Rav Tali’s wisdom will help you reflect and feel inspired and we hope you enjoy this episode.

Welcome to Ta Shma, a new podcast where you get to listen in on Hadar’s Beit Midrash. Whether you’re at home or on the go, come and listen to recordings from recent Hadar classes, lectures, programs. Ta Shma is hosted by R. Avi Killip of the Hadar Institute.